


Take Your Turn

by ouzel



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Blindfolds, Butt Plugs, Collars, F/F, Gags, Nipple Clamps, Overstimulation, Restraints, Sex Tapes, Spanking, Strap-Ons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:08:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27002497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ouzel/pseuds/ouzel
Summary: The bachelorettes of Pelican Town rely on the farmer.
Relationships: Female Player/Bachelorettes
Comments: 11
Kudos: 63





	1. First of Spring

**Author's Note:**

> look, you should not be learning about safe sex from ao3 but just in case, please go forward with the assumption that the bachelorettes have worked out their preferences and boundaries with the farmer ahead of time, which is why a scene with one character may be rougher than another's, etc. tags will be updated as chapter content necessitates.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abigail puts forth an idea. Penny puts on a show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content: the three s's: spanking, squirting, sex tapes! also, gags

There isn’t much time, so the farmer doesn’t bother to take Abigail’s clothes off. She tugs the dress down until Abigail’s bra is visible, and then unhooks that, tossing it behind her in the direction of Abigail’s bed. This is what she’s here for: Abigail’s breasts lolling free, big and heavy without support. Abigail’s hips fill her hands and she pulls until Abigail is sitting at the edge of the dresser, knees knocking at the farmer’s hips. The way the dress stretches across her legs keeps her cunt from making contact with anything but Abigail whimpers anyway, her head falling back to expose a column of pale skin that marks up wonderfully when the farmer is in the mood. 

She starts there, sucking at the divot of Abigail’s collarbone, the skin still a little sleep-warm under her mouth. Abigail gives a pretty sigh and tries to wrap her legs around the farmer, but the dress gets in the way again. She wriggles under the farmer’s mouth and the farmer is vaguely aware of the shifting of cotton as Abigail tries to take the dress the rest of the way off. The farmer swats at her hands and pushes the dress up instead, til Abigail is left wearing a wide cotton belt and squirming on the dresser, cool under her bare thighs.

The farmer presses her mouth to Abigail’s neck again and fills her hands with Abigail’s breasts, the nipples pebbling between the gaps of her thumbs and fingers. Just that slight touch has Abigail gasping, clutching the farmer’s shoulders. The farmer grins and resists the temptation to squeeze, even just once. The longer she keeps her hands light and loose, the more Abigail squirms, sighs and cut-off gasps filling the room. She takes her time, mouthing a path straight down Abigail’s chest, a trail of red love bites down into the valley between Abigail’s breasts, thumbs rubbing lightly at the undersides of soft, heavy breasts. Abigail arches her back, keeping herself open for the farmer. 

“Good girl,” the farmer whispers and watches goosebumps erupt on Abigail’s skin as she shifts, an arm around Abigail’s waist and a hand running up Abigail’s thigh. Abigail whines low in her throat, her nails scratching through the farmer’s hair as the farmer finally brushes the tops of Abigail’s breasts with her mouth, leaving the lightest kisses, barely touching skin no matter how much Abigail tries thrusting her tits at her. She won’t be rushed. 

She presses her mouth longer and longer to Abigail’s skin, suckling a little at the outside curve of Abigail’s breast while she fondles the other, letting it rest in her palm before circling it again, squeezing lightly now, just enough for Abigail to squeak, just enough to feel the nipple rub against her palm. Abigail’s legs wrap warm and desperate around her waist, keeping her close. Abigail’s skin is soft under her mouth as she works her way towards a nipple, licking and kissing and sucking the skin all around it before pulling back. Abigail groans and the farmer nips at her jaw to remind her of the people just outside her room.

“Should’ve, should’ve gone to yours,” Abigail gasps, her hips rocking against nothing. “Be loud there.”

“I surprised you,” the farmer soothes, enjoying the frustration that crosses Abigail’s face once she realizes she’s given the farmer an excuse to dally. “Quiet now. You don’t want mommy and daddy to know how easy you are.”  
  
“M’not easy,” Abigail says, tossing her head. A lie. The farmer ghosts a hand over Abigail’s inner thigh, right up to her panties, and Abigail cries out, only the farmer’s arm tight around her waist keeping her from collapsing back onto the dresser. She spreads her legs wide for the farmer in a wordless plea. The farmer finds the wet spot on her panties, rubs it lightly as Abigail twitches, bucks her hips into the touch. The farmer has had enough of waiting, too. She pulls the panties to the side and runs a finger down Abigail’s slit, light until she slips a finger in. Abigail is hot and wet and the farmer grunts, bites into the soft skin where Abigail’s neck meets her shoulder. Abigail cries out, a high, sweet sound, and wraps her legs tight around the farmer.

The farmer snaps at her jaw again and breaks away. Abigail doesn’t stay quiet at all, mewling at the loss, grasping for the farmer’s shoulders. The farmer ignores her, pulling Abigail’s panties all the way off and holding them up to her mouth. Abigail opens obediently, and the farmer keeps feeding her more material, until Abigail is staring at her with dark eyes and a full mouth.

“Took that so well, baby,” the farmer whispers. She gets a nipple before her forefinger and thumb, and Abigail jerks in surprise. The panties do muffle the whiny little noise Abigail makes, though the thump of her foot kicking into the dresser is another matter. The farmer smiles. “My good girl,” she says. The farmer bends to take the same nipple in her mouth and sucks, no warm-up. Abigail thrashes, moaning muffled and low and the farmer takes the other breast, heavy and spilling out of her hand, and squeezes once, firmly. Abigail digs her nails into the farmer’s shoulders, unable to decide if she wants to pull the farmer closer or push her away. 

The farmer knows exactly where she wants Abigail. She finds Abigail’s cunt again, slipping two fingers in and curling deep inside. Abigail wails, muffled behind a wad of cotton, and the farmer fucks into her steadily, still sucking on Abigail’s nipple, pebbled and perky. Abigail writhes, bucking her hips into the farmer’s hand in the same motion that she tries to get away from the mouth hard and punishing at her tits. The farmer switches to the other bouncing breast, finding the nipple and raking her teeth over it. 

The panties can’t do much about that. Abigail clings to the farmer’s shoulders and sobs as she comes, clenching hard around the farmer’s fingers as her tits are bitten and sucked. Abigail’s cunt is still squeezing her fingers rhythmically when Abigail weakly pushes the farmer’s head away from her chest, a low whine from her throat. Too sensitive now. The farmer drives her fingers into Abigail one more time, two more times, milking the last drops from her. Slick drools off her fingers when she pulls them out of Abigail’s sopping cunt. 

She wipes off on Abigail’s hip and slings her over her shoulder in one easy movement, which earns her a muffled groan as oversensitive nipples brush the scratchy wool of the farmer’s flannel, but the farmer needs a hand free to grab a water bottle and toss it onto Abigail’s nightstand. Abigail’s eyes are drooping when the farmer lays her down on the bed, breasts swaying to either side of her torso. Even that involuntary movement must be heightened, because Abigail flinches, rubbing restlessly at her dress, still bunched up between her red tits and wet cunt. The farmer works the panties out of Abigail’s mouth and cradles Abigail’s head in the crook of her elbow, tipping water into her mouth.

“S’good,” Abigail slurs, pulling away. The farmer starts, spilling some water down Abigail’s neck. Abigail doesn’t seem to notice, but she’s usually asleep by this point. “M’gonna, m’gonna get my tits pierced. And then it’ll be so good, be so fucking good.”

Those big, sensitive tits with sweet little barbells running through them. Fuck. The farmer leans down to kiss Abigail’s open mouth, biting her lower lip gently before pulling away. “Stuffing you full of your own panties wouldn’t keep you quiet anymore,” she muses, and Abigail groans, bucks her hips up towards nothing.

“Whole town’s gonna know,” Abigail agrees, dazed and dreamy. “M’so easy, soaking, so wet, rub me so, so good.”

“Fuck,” the farmer mumbles, and considers how hard it would be to wake Abigail back up before Pierre is done packaging the seeds she ordered. Abigail’s breathing goes deep and measured before the farmer is halfway through the thought and the farmer shakes herself. She’s had her treat, now she’s got a long day of planting ahead of her.

She slips out of Abigail’s bedroom and back into the general store. Caroline greets her at the check-out stand, frazzled but smiling.

“Hello,” the farmer starts. 

“We’re still not ready!” Caroline cries. 

She timed it well, then. “You’re swamped,” the farmer says, “I understand. It’s the first of the season.”  
  
“It’s always packed this time of year, we send saplings all over the country!”

“I don’t mind the delay,” the farmer promises, flashing briefly and wonderfully back to Abigail’s tits red and bitten as the farmer pumped two fingers inside of her.

“I really do apologize for the delay,” Caroline says, shoulders slumping. “Every year I think we’ll be on top of it, and...well. Were you just in Abigail’s room? Would you mind telling her that we’d like her out here, please?”

“She’s asleep,” the farmer says, as apologetically as she can manage. 

“Oh, I thought I heard…?” Caroline shakes her head. “That girl. Worse now than when she was a teenager, I swear. Please, please feel free to peruse our shelves while we get your order sorted!”

The farmer tips her hat to Caroline and wanders further into the store, mainly because Caroline is looking at her with the eyes of someone desperate for something to go right today.

In the aisles furthest away from Pierre and Caroline shouting order numbers at each other, she finds a woman in a hip-hugging skirt and a blouse buttoned to the neck. Penny has a hand on her mouth as she peruses Pierre’s pasta selection. The farmer watches Penny rub restlessly under her lower lip as she thinks and smiles. 

“You’re up early,” she says.

Penny startles and turns to face the farmer. “Oh! Yes!” She lifts her shopping basket like it’s evidence, then drops it back to her hand. “I won’t have time after work, so I need to get this done now.” Penny pauses, and the farmer watches her clock a unbuttoned flannel, the t-shirt underneath it untucked and rumpled. A flush rises up Penny’s neck. “Did you just? With?”  
  
The farmer inclines her head in agreement.

Penny bites her lip. “Do you – would you want another, later?”

The farmer crowds Penny against the shelf. The basket Penny had been carrying falls to the floor. “Baby,” the farmer says quietly. Penny’s hips jolt up towards the farmer’s before Penny bites her lip and there’s distance between them again. This spring is already off to a wonderful start. “You wanna be on your knees for me tonight?”  
  
Penny’s face goes splotchy and red. “Yes,” she whispers. Her fingers twist in the farmer’s shirt. “Yes, please, yes.”

The farmer smiles, angling Penny’s chin up and sucking a kiss on the side of her neck. Penny makes a small sound in the back of her throat, and the farmer pulls away. “None of that. Had enough trouble with a noisy girl already.” Penny sucks in a breath. Not all of the women like hearing about the others, but Penny enjoys a small dose now and again. It deserves a reward, the farmer thinks, pressing her thumb on the forming bruise. “Be on my porch at sunset.”

*

Penny is, as ever, prompt. The farmer wants her in the living room today, and sprawls on the couch as she directs Penny to take off the prim little button-down she favors for work. Penny, left in a bra and skirt, shivers once. The farmer tends to keep the fireplace banked. Her girls warm the house up plenty. 

“Fold it nice.”

Penny’s legs are a little wobbly but she is neat and efficient. The farmer takes the shirt and lays it in front of the couch. Penny goes to kneel on the folded fabric when the farmer stops her with a hand on her hip. The farmer peels the panties off Penny’s hips, sucking a kiss on a thigh on her way down. Penny shivers but doesn’t move, not even to put a hand in the farmer’s hair. Once the panties are off, the farmer tosses them on the floor. She grips Penny’s hips again, heavy and demanding, and Penny sinks down to kneel on her folded shirt. The farmer watches the back of Penny’s head sink lower in the window, almost a mirror with the sinking sun outside and the lamps burning brightly inside. Penny kisses lightly at the farmer’s thighs, and the farmer raises both brows, but lets Penny suckle for a little while. When it becomes clear Penny will wait for the farmer to press the issue, the farmer fists Penny’s hair in a hand and smiles at the resulting moan. 

“Use that mouth.” 

Penny’s eyes fall shut in relief and she moves upward eagerly. Penny’s good with her mouth, eager and sloppy. The farmer’s had a long day; she groans, bucking her hips into Penny’s mouth, riding her face as a swell of heat washes through her. She keeps a hand in Penny’s hair as she catches her breath, watching through half-lidded eyes as Penny cleans her with a gentle tongue, careful not to go anywhere too sensitive. 

The farmer exhales the stress of the day and gestures Penny into her lap. Penny clambers up quickly, her hips rocking into the farmer’s before she’s even full seated. Her face is a mess, slicked from nose to chin and cheek. The farmer unhooks Penny’s bra, and they both sigh as Penny’s tits spill out, soft and pebbling immediately. First thing’s first: skin-warm satin to Penny’s nose, chin, the sides of her mouth. 

“Remember when you wouldn’t let me do this?” the farmer murmurs. Penny had come to the farmer one night back when she’d been new to Pelican Town, a wet spot on her panties and adamant she would not remove her bra. The farmer had shrugged and had Penny on the table, skirt pushed up to her waist as the farmer bit her inner thighs, already slick from her leaking cunt.

Penny flushes and mumbles something the farmer doesn’t quite catch, lost in the memory.

“What’s that?”

“I just, I said there’s not much to look at there. Anywhere, really.”

The farmer flips Penny, so that her chest is pressed to Penny’s back. Penny shrieks and the farmer meets her eyes in the mirror of the window and smirks. 

“Let’s see if that’s true,” she says, an arm wrapped tight around Penny’s torso as she runs a hand down Penny’s belly. Penny shivers in her lap, more interested in watching the farmer’s hand slip between her legs than her reflection. The farmer finds Penny wet and willing to spread her legs wide, take in a finger, then two, easy as anything, hot and tight. Penny whines low in her throat and the farmer, squirming restlessly and the farmer slips a third in there and gets the full-bodied satisfied moan she’s waiting for.

“Taking three fingers so easy, so wet. You look so good.” Penny moans, angling her head back to suck a desperate kiss on the farmer’s jaw. “Look at yourself, baby,” the farmer grunts, pinching a nipple. “Look at yourself getting fucked.”

“I can’t,” Penny sobs. “I can’t, I can’t.”

The farmer stills. “You can’t?” she asks, low. Penny shudders in her arms. “It sounds to me like you won’t.” Penny doesn’t respond except for a quiet whimper. In the mirror, her eyes are squeezed shut. “What happens to my pretty girls when they won’t do what I say?”

“Get punished,” Penny mumbles, and whimpers when the farmer pulls out of her.

The farmer gathers Penny’s wrists behind her back and forces three slick-covered fingers past Penny’s mouth. Penny moans around the farmer’s fingers as they fuck into her mouth, hooking cruelly into her cheek, then thrusting deep, forcing Penny to suck or gag. Penny chooses to suck, laves them with attention and the farmer lets her for a while, letting her get comfortable. When Penny starts to relax into the pace of the farmer’s fingers, the farmer pulls away and yanks Penny by her wrists until she’s sprawled across the farmer’s lap, cunt hot on top of the farmer’s thighs.

Penny lets out a breath like it’s been punched out her. The farmer enjoys the smooth soft skin of Penny’s ass under a calloused palm, then raises a hand. She holds it in the air, letting the anticipation build and brings it down with a crack! Penny squeals, writhing on the farmer’s thighs. The farmer tightens her grip on Penny’s wrists.

“Count.”  
  
Penny keens low in her throat. “One,” she whispers, still wiggling. “Thank you.”

Again. Rubbing, waiting, bringing the flat of her palm down with a smack that echoes throughout the house, followed closely by a whimper and a number. Penny’s ass goes pink, then red. Penny starts crying somewhere around the fifth smack and the farmer rubs the inside of one thigh soothingly before striking the underside of a cheek, turning it the most lovely pale pink. She’s limp in the farmer’s lap by the tenth, and the farmer straightens, shaking her hand to get feeling back in it.

“Spread your legs.” 

Penny cries softly and obeys as best she can on the narrow couch. The farmer runs her palm over Penny’s leaking cunt, dips her fingers inside just briefly. Penny shudders, makes a pleading noise in the back of her throat. “You’re not done yet,” the farmer soothes. “You still have to make it up to me.”

*

Making it up looks like Penny on her knees again, mouth working at the farmer’s cunt as the farmer watches her through the viewfinder of a camera that Haley loaned her last week.

“Look at the camera, baby,” the farmer says. Penny flicks her eyes up immediately.

The farmer laughs. She tightens her grip on Penny’s hair and pulls up away from the farmer’s cunt. Penny makes a quiet noise of loss that the farmer ignores, keeps pulling her up by the hair until Penny gets the idea and scrambles to the middle of the bed, laying on her belly. The farmer gets an arm under her and yanks until Penny’s ass is up in the air, round and flushed red. “Doesn’t this look pretty? She does what she’s told now.”  
  
Penny moans. She struggles onto her elbows and the farmer puts a hand on the back of her neck and pushes her back down. Another smack on her ass echoes around the room. Penny cries out, her thighs unsteady already.

“I’m gonna put the camera right here so everyone can watch you get fucked. You can come if you can look at the camera. Clear?”

“Yes,” Penny tells the camera, tear tracks still visible on her face. “Thank you.”

The farmer pulls Penny back onto her thick strong thigh, letting Penny’s cunt leak all over it, and pushing her down, pulling her away and bringing her back to rub Penny’s clit hard on her thigh. Penny tries to crawl away from the pressure and the farmer tightens her grip on Penny’s hips, bringing her to the farmer’s thigh with a firm hand. “You’re gonna take this and you’re gonna smile pretty for the camera.”

“I,” Penny babbles. “I, I, I, I!”

The farmer grabs for the camera just in time, and Penny cries out wildly as the camera catches her pathetically empty cunt squirting onto the bed, onto her own shaking thighs.

Penny sinks into the mattress, boneless, and the farmer lets her, following her down to feel her heartbeat thunder through their bodies, careful not to place any weight on Penny’s ass. In a second, she’ll get the aloe vera and smooth down the marks she made and hear Penny sigh in cool relief. 

“Gosh,” Penny mumbles. Always so prim.  
  
The farmer grins, an idea tickling her head in the euphoric afterglow. “Want me to show that around? Let everyone see how you took it so pretty?”

“Okay,” Penny mumbles, mostly into the pillow. The farmer raises her eyebrows. Well. Looks like prim little Penny has surprises in store for her.

“Okay?” the farmer asks, sweeping Penny’s hair over a shoulder and kissing her neck.  
  
Penny takes a deep breath, reaching a hand around blindly to rub the farmer’s back. “If you think. They would like. It, then. Yes.”

“Who wouldn’t want to watch a pretty girl put on a show for them,” the farmer purrs. “Leave it up to me.”   



	2. Clothing Therapy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emily's big day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content: nipple clamps worn for just a wildly, unrealistically long time without negative effects, restraints, butt plugs, blindfolds, strap-ons, collars, overstimulation

Emily answers the door, as the farmer knew she would. Haley’s usually out in the afternoons, but Emily’s just waking up after a shift at the saloon, and very willing to be talked back into her bed with its 500 thread count cotton sheets and the safe beside it, tucked behind a large potted plant and lined with thick, exquisitely ridged strap-ons Emily likes to suck into her mouth and cunt. She sews her own lingerie, too; lacy, beaded productions she sometimes wears while she’s fucked. Emily likes to feel a variety of textures, and the farmer likes to provide.

Today, Emily stands in the foyer already dressed. She greets the farmer with a flustered kind of surprise though the farmer is sure she sent a note ahead to let Emily know she’d be dropping by. The farmer sets her packages – a bolt of freshly woven cloth for Emily, and the camera she’d borrowed from Haley – next to the door and crowds in close. Emily all but falls into the farmer’s arms, hands fisting into the soft, scratchy flannel of the farmer’s shirt.

“Big day today,” Emily mumbles. Her fashion show is later today, the farmer knows. She hums, resting a hand heavily on the back of Emily’s neck, letting her sink into it.

“Need my help?” 

Emily whimpers.

“What do you need?” the farmer presses.

Emily whines in the back of her throat, pushing her forehead further into the farmer’s shoulder. “Still thinking too much.”

The farmer smiles, patting her pocket. “Brought something for that.”

Emily sucks in a breath. The farmer wraps a steadying arm around her and turns Emily until her back is pressed to the farmer’s front. Emily pulls down the straps of her dress with shaky hands and begins undressing. The farmer encourages her with little nips to the neck, sucking lightly until Emily moans and her hands stutter over the half unbuttoned blouse. That’s all the farmer needs, anyway. She undoes the front-fastening bra and sighs as Emily’s tits fall free, soft and warm in the farmer’s palms. She works Emily’s teats until the nipples pebble, rolling them in her fingers as Emily makes soft, pleading noises, reaching back to hold onto the farmer.

The farmer takes out the clamps Maru fashioned for herself a few months ago. They hadn’t been to Maru’s taste after all, which is just fine, but that’s no reason to let them gather dust. Emily moans when she sees them, glinting silver between the farmer’s fingers.

“You’ll think about this instead,” the farmer promises, pinching a clamp around a pert nipple. Emily curls around the pressure at her tits, gasping unevenly. The farmer waits for the curve of Emily’s spine to smooth back out before squeezing the other nipple between the softer plastic at the tips of curved metal.

Emily shouts, suddenly and immediately limp in the farmer’s arms. “Good girl,” the farmer soothes, “being so good for me.” She sucks a mark into the junction of Emily’s neck and shoulder until the moans turn into something resembling steady breathing and Emily’s legs stop shaking. Emily turns her face into the farmer’s neck, breathing hot and shallow as the farmer murmurs, “Going to do so well in front of everyone, look at my pretty little thing.”   
  
“Just your pretty little thing,” Emily breathes, eyes squeezed shut. “Have – a surprise for you too. Later?”

“After the mayor's house,” the farmer agrees, buttoning Emily’s blouse back up. The clamps are obvious through the cotton, the little screws just visible under the swell of Emily’s nipples, the faintest suggestion of the dangling chain connecting the two. Emily’s coat will hide it all, but for now, the farmer enjoys the view. She slips her tongue into Emily’s mouth, playing her fingers lightly under Emily’s breasts. She needs to go take care of her own chores before Emily's show later, but for now she lets Emily suck on her tongue, whimpering and arching in her arms.

*  
She follows a few steps behind Emily, enjoying the view. Her gait is unsteady, like something is sore between her thighs, too.

The show had gone well; Emily had spoken clearly and confidently, and seemed to enjoy how much fun everyone was having. It was only if you looked closer that you’d see how she’d gasp every time someone brushed too close to her chest, how she had to duck out every ten minutes and come back slightly less flushed until she met the farmer’s eyes again, how she stripped off the coat the second they’d set down the path to Willow Lane, preening as the farmer leveled her with a look.

As soon as the door closes behind them, Emily is in the farmer’s arms. She leans into the brace of the farmer’s hands at her back, too sensitive to let her chest brush the farmer’s, arching as she rocks her hips mindlessly into the farmer, offering up her tits. The farmer needs Emily horizontal but can’t resist palming a breast, not squeezing, just holding. Emily sobs, heaving great huge gulps of air as she shakes in the farmer’s arms.

It’d been a long afternoon.

She leads Emily to her room, murmuring soft words of encouragement as Emily walks unsteadily beside her. The bolt of cloth she’d brought over today leans against the nightstand, blocking the side of the bed. She stands Emily at the foot of the bed instead, and says, “Off.”  
  
Emily unbuttons her shirt with shaky fingers as the farmer watches. She's warm enough that the farmer can feel the heat radiating off Emily’s body as she shucks off her own jeans. Emily hesitates over her bra and panties, stripping them off only when the farmer nods. Emily stands naked in front of the farmer, flushed pale pink all over.

“Show me.”

Whimpering, Emily stretches forward on the bed and leans on her elbows to keep her sensitive breasts from brushing the sheets. Her ass hangs off the edge of the bed, and the farmer kneels behind her to confirm her suspicions.  
  
“How long have you had this in?” she asks, tracing the ridges of the jeweled base between Emily’s cheeks.

“Morning,” Emily gasps, squirming under the farmer’s hand.

“My surprise?” The farmer can see blue hair bob as Emily nods. She smacks Emily on the ass, enjoys the jiggle of flesh and the way Emily contracts tight around the plug, bucking into the footboard. “Use your words.”

Emily lets out a heartfelt _oh fuck_ into the bed. The farmer swallows a smile, rubbing lightly where she’d hit. “Yes,” Emily gasps. “Your surprise.”

It’s a nice surprise. The farmer slaps Emily’s ass again as she gets to her feet, a punctuation mark to close the conversation. “Flat on your back, arms outstretched.”

It takes a second for Emily to register the order, as though she’d expected to be fucked with the crook of her hips caught on the footboard of her bed. A tempting option, but the farmer’s had all afternoon to think about this. 

Emily scrambles up the bed, catching herself halfway when the swing of her breasts shifts the clamps, curling on herself and breathing in deep. She’s much more careful as she rolls onto her back, sighing quietly when her breasts loll, settle, shivering when the long chain settles cool on her belly. She stretches her arms above her head, and looks at the farmer, eyes dark and wanting.  
  
“Let’s put this mouth to good use,” the farmer says, and Emily moans, her lips parting, a pink tongue darting out in anticipation. The farmer kneels over Emily’s face, taking a fistful of hair and sinking down onto Emily’s eager mouth. Emily’s hands twitch like she wants to hold onto the farmer’s hips, but the farmer makes a disapproving noise.

“I know how to use this mouth,” she says soothingly. “It belongs to me.”

Emily sinks back into the bed with relief, moaning quietly. The vibrations shudder through the farmer. She rocks her hips onto Emily’s mouth, groaning with each swipe of Emily’s tongue, each sucking kiss to her cunt, coating Emily’s chin and neck with slickness as the pressure builds. Emily whines hungrily below her and the farmer hisses as she comes, more worked up than she’d thought. She pants into her arm, a hand clutching tight to the headboard as the other pets blindly at Emily’s hair. 

She looks down to find Emily staring steadily back up at her. She can feel the tension still in Emily’s body, the lingering confusion over the end of the fashion show, the frustration that she’s not quite yet able to stop thinking. That’s okay. The farmer will help her get there.

Emily sucks kisses onto the farmer’s thighs, mouthing at her skin until the farmer rolls her hips again, ready for another round. Emily sighs happily, licks a long line of heat directly up her the farmer’s cunt. This time the farmer sacrifices her grip in Emily’s hair to reach behind her and hold the chain connecting the clamps on Emily’s tits, not tugging yet. Emily lets out a loud moan directly into the farmer’s cunt and the farmer grunts, lets go of the chain as she comes again, riding Emily’s face until the last of the aftershocks roll away. All the while, Emily’s hands stay where the farmer told her to leave them, though clenched into fists, forearms corded with the restraint she needed to obey the farmer.

The farmer flops to one side while she catches her breath, watches Emily turn her head to watch her, nose, chin, cheeks, and neck gleaming with wetness, chest heaving with exertion as the clamps still pinch her tits. Emily worries at her bottom lip, restless. The farmer traces the tension in Emily’s arms. “Do you need some help listening to me tonight, baby?”

Emily moans quietly. “Please.”

The farmer reaches for the bolt of cloth still leaning against the bed. She tears off two strips, pleased at the hitch in Emily’s breathing, and ties Emily’s wrists to the slatted headboard. Emily tugs at it until they’re both satisfied with the resistance. The farmer reaches into the nightstand for the collar Emily had recently brought to her, repurposed from an old belt. Emily’s eyes go dark as the farmer shows it to her.  
  
“Yes,” Emily rasps, arching her back. “Wanna be your toy.”  
  
The collar fits snug around Emily’s neck, a wide, soft leather band that buckles into place. There’s a D-ring that Emily had looped in, and the farmer fingers it as Emily melts under her ministrations, breathing slow and deep. After a moment of consideration, the farmer rips off another, wider strip of cloth, folds it double and ties it as a blindfold around Emily’s eyes. Emily sinks deeper into the mattress as the farmer works, mouth parted and face slack, each swallow punctuated by an accompanying rise and fall of leather.

The farmer gets off the bed. She pads around to the potted plant, to the safe behind it. Left alone on the bed, Emily whimpers. She’s shivering, covered in goosebumps, back arching as she tries for any kind of friction, anyone, anything to touch her. The farmer isn’t quiet about rummaging through the toys in Emily’s safe but still Emily whines like she’s been abandoned, twitching as drafts brush over skin, red and splotchy all over.

“Tell me what textures you can feel,” the farmer says, taking pity on her.

“Fabric,” Emily says, throat working under leather. “’Round my wrists. On my eyes. Leather. ‘Round my neck. Cotton sheets. Under me. Rubber on – on my tits. Metal chain on my belly. S’cold.” The farmer makes an encouraging noise. “Big. Smooth. In my ass. It was cold when I put it in but it’s warm now.”

“Keep going,” the farmer says, hiking a knee onto the bed. The strap-on she’d selected swings in its harness with her movement.

Emily shivers, full body. “Flannel. On my belly. Tops of my thighs.”

The farmer picks up the chain connecting the nipple clamps and Emily cries out, back arching off the bed in supplication. She runs the metal links between her fingers and lets it whisper over Emily’s skin, raising goosebumps as it travels between her breasts, then further up. From there it’s easy enough to loop it through the D-ring on the collar, securing a knot so that there’s just barely slack in the chain. The farmer’s toy moans continuously, pitifully beneath her.

“Toys are just holes for me to use,” the farmer murmurs, running a hand down Emily’s belly, feeling the skin twitch and jump, savoring the vibration of the moan when the farmer skips Emily’s dripping cunt and turns her attention to the jeweled base between Emily’s asscheeks. “Warm wet holes that cry if they’re not filled and scream once they are.”  
  
“M’a toy,” Emily sobs, arching and twisting as the farmer slowly pulls the plug out. “M’a hole, use my holes, m’a toy, wanna, please.”

The plug gets tossed over the side of the bed, to be dealt with later, and the farmer spreads Emily’s legs wide with her hands, knowing the scratch of the callouses against soft skin makes Emily squirm. Emily’s mouth hangs open, her thighs pinking under the farmer’s attention. The farmer takes the strap in hand to align it with Emily’s hole and thrusts in with one smooth movement. Emily cries out, too strung out now to really fight her restraints but every line of her body is taut and eager, bangs matted with sweat.  
  
“Big,” she keens, throwing her head back and exposing the long smooth column of her neck, splotchy and red. “Big big big big.”

It is, the thickest Emily owns. The farmer has to go slowly despite the wetness soaking Emily’s cunt, her thighs, the sheets underneath, to let Emily adjust to the sheer girth of it. She groans as she pushes further in slowly, savoring. “Gonna fill this hole up,” she promises.  
  
Emily moans a response, cheek pressed to the pillow, the furrow of her brow visible over the blindfold as she stretches around purple silicone. The farmer turns Emily’s face back toward her with a firm hand on her chin, thumbing along the seam of her mouth until pretty pink lips part, accept the farmer’s fingers. Emily sucks on her mouthful until the farmer bottoms out, groans as the base of the strap presses into her clit. She needs both hands then, grips bruising tight to Emily’s hips and sets a rapid, selfish pace, chasing the grind of the strap and the sweet hymn of Emily moaning as the farmer fucks into her. Emily’s pussy takes greedily, clenching tight around the farmer’s cock and drooling when she pulls out, noisy with its wetness. Emily comes, clawing at the air as she tries to hold on to something, anything, but isn’t allowed to move, can only arch her back and let the farmer keep pounding into her.

The farmer grunts, almost, almost there, helped along by noise of it all, the slap of the strap and the drenched soak of Emily’s pussy, Emily’s whimpers as she realizes that the farmer will keep sinking deep until the farmer is satisfied, that the farmer is using her toy as she sees fit. “Fucking good hole,” the farmer groans and Emily mewls, goes almost pliant except for her greedy hips, still rolling into the farmer to meet her thrusts. Emily presses her cheek to the pillow as the farmer spreads her legs wider, fucks her deeper. Her mouth hangs open, drooling into her hair as she's pushed and pulled up and down the bed. With great care, the farmer lets go of Emily’s hip to secure the blindfold once again. 

“My toy doesn’t need to see,” the farmer grunts, so close now. “My toy just needs to be fucked.” Emily’s breath catches visibly, her breasts wobbling with the force of the farmer’s cock, her tits still being pinched by the clamps and she comes again, crying out as the farmer still keeps pace, thrusting short and selfish as the base of the strap presses into her clit and she tips herself over the edge.

The farmer uses her grip on Emily’s hips to keep herself mostly upright, strap still buried in Emily’s dripping cunt as she catches her breath. She pants out a laugh. “Did my little toy come on this big cock?” 

Emily doesn’t answer, chest heaving, and the farmer frowns disapprovingly. Good toys use their words. The farmer strums the chain between her tits and the collar and Emily screams, tears soaking through the blindfold and leaking into her drooling mouth as sensation sparks through her. 

She slurs something that could be a _yes_ , could be a _please_. The farmer allows it, rolling her hips into Emily’s again, slowly this time, enjoying the heat that coils lazily throughout her body. She runs her hands flat up Emily’s belly and over the curve of her breasts, releases the nipple clamps. 

Emily wails as the blood rushes back to her tits, arching so far off the bed that the headboard thumps against the wall, and the farmer grips Emily’s hips tight to keep the strap buried in Emily’s pussy with how wildly Emily is thrashing around, kicking out at nothing and clenching hard around the toy and coming once again, whimpering and whining and lifting her hips, incoherent. 

“Good toy,” the farmer groans, though she’s sure Emily can’t hear it, and slips the strap out of Emily’s convulsing cunt and breaches her asshole.

Emily is beyond speech, keening desperately as just the tip of the strap between her cheeks wrings another orgasm out of her, a shivering, shaking, crying, greedy mess. She pulls Emily’s legs onto her shoulders and leans into the slow drive of her hips. Emily’s noises go high and pleading as the angle changes and the farmer smiles, carefully cupping a hand over still-sensitive breasts and keeping her hold gentle even as she bottoms out. Slick is still dripping out of Emily’s cunt and the farmer watches it smear her thighs, pool around the strap stretching her ass. Emily mewls, sucking in air as her abused tits heave beneath the farmer’s calloused palm. The farmer waits and Emily doesn’t disappoint: weakly, she rolls her hips, desperate to be used again. 


	3. Lace and Machines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maru inspires the farmer. Haley dresses up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content: more s’s!, spanking, (watching) sex tapes, (discussion of) sex machines

On rainy days, the farmer leaves her horse in the stable and heads to the mines. She can’t make a habit of stopping by Maru’s every time, but the temptation of Maru’s bedroom, with its separate entrance and partial soundproofing, is strong, and Maru herself has taken to waking early when the sky is overcast. Today she lays on top of the covers, arms crossed demurely over her breasts. 

The farmer kicks her boots off and walks over to the bed – directly in front of the door, Maru is always looking for more ways to be efficient. The farmer abandons her oilcloth jacket on the floor, intent on watching Maru’s chest rise and fall with each breath. Maru’s eyes are closed, resting languidly like she doesn’t feel the chill of the morning air, like she’d been under the blankets right up til she’d heard the key in the lock, then clambered out of the covers to present herself to the farmer. Good. The farmer likes looking at Maru, the soft roundness of her, the bitten lips, the anticipatory arching of her back.

“Arms at your sides.”

Maru sighs as she obeys, goes limp when the farmer rubs a hand down Maru’s neck, her chest, squeezing and plucking at a nipple. Maru’s mouth falls open and her eyes fall shut as the farmer continues, testing the heft of Maru’s tits in her hands.

The bed dips under the farmer’s weight, and Maru squeezes her legs together as the farmer gets situated, already eager for friction. The farmer smooths her hands under Maru’s breasts, down Maru’s belly, enjoying the way she squirms, then squeaks when the farmer yanks her legs in the air, draping her thighs over the farmer’s shoulders.

She noses into Maru and finds her wet, her thighs slick. “Get started without me?”

Maru bites off a gasp and rolls her hips, enticing. It works, it always works; the farmer nips a kiss into the tender flesh of Maru’s inner thigh and enjoys the moan that trembles through her body. 

“Didn’t,” Maru whispers. “Just want it so bad.”

Which deserves to be rewarded, the farmer thinks. Maru cries out when the farmer licks into her, a pleading noise that shoots straight to the farmer’s cunt. Maru is a symphony of breathy moans and sighs, soft skin and warmth wrapped around the farmer’s head, rocking into the throb of the farmer’s mouth around Maru’s clit. Her belly twitches under the farmer’s hand as the farmer licks into Maru’s pussy. She tweaks a nipple and Maru cries out, frantic with the strength of her orgasm.

The farmer eases off but not away, gentling until Maru’s breathing steadies out and she encourages the farmer’s mouth back to her clit with another roll of her hips. Maru’s body comes arching off the bed and the farmer keeps going, licking messily into Maru’s pussy, feeling Maru’s hands scrabble at the farmer’s denim-clad thighs as she comes again, building on the hot wave of the last.

“Wait wait wait,” Maru gasps as the farmer goes back in. “Need. Want to. Need a minute.”

The farmer hums, obligingly setting Maru down so that her round ass rests on the farmer’s lap and her belly doesn’t tremble with the effort of holding herself up, even with the farmer’s help. The farmer runs a coarse palms over the soft, overheated skin of Maru’s inner thighs while she looks around the room.

It’s a mess, as it usually is, half-completed inventions and reams of graph paper notebooks spilling out of the closet. Along with –   
  
“What’s that?”

Maru turns to look where the farmer is gesturing, still sucking in air as she recovers from two quick orgasms in a row. She laughs around a shivery moan. “Built that ages ago. Found it last night. I meant to dissemble it but I got too tired.”

_It_ is a sex machine, and though it’s half buried in the closet, the farmer is pretty sure there’s a small pink dildo still attached. Too small for Maru now. The farmer has worked Maru open and worked her up since she’s been in town; the thicker straps make Maru’s cunt clench so tight the farmer can feel it, Maru’s greedy pussy trying to swallow anything it can have.

“Should take care of that today,” Maru is saying, and cuts herself off with a gasp when the farmer pinches a nipple reprovingly.

“I can handle it,” the farmer says. “You ready, baby?”

Maru tosses her head back into the pillow and lifts her hips with a moan. The farmer smiles, parting Maru’s wet pussy with her fingers. Slick drools out of her and the farmer gathers it up and drives her fingers into welcoming, greedy heat. Maru muffles a scream into the back of her hand, her whole body taut with desperation. Maru can ride her fingers for a good long time, and though the farmer needs to get going, she squeezes Maru’s tits with her free hand and settles in for just one more round before she braves the cold rain outside.

*  
  
The modifications to Maru’s machine don’t take long at all, easy adjustments even after a long day in the mines, but by the time she’s done, it’s dark and the farmer is restless. 

Emily’s working a double shift tonight, but Haley should still be awake. The farmer wonders briefly if she should have sent a note to let Haley know she’d be dropping by. Haley likes dressing up for the farmer, and the farmer likes looking.   
  
It doesn’t take long for the farmer to realize she shouldn’t have worried. She enters the sisters’ house, snicking the lock shut behind her, a habit left over from living in a big city. The farmer turns to find Haley on the couch, in lace and sheer silk, rocked back on her ass with her legs folded, holding her knees apart and bathed in blue glow from the TV. 

On screen, someone moans. 

Haley watches the screen intently as the farmer watches her. She flexes her hands around her knees as she rocks slowly, like the Penny in the TV is going to lap at her cunt if she wants it hard enough. 

“What are you up to?”

Haley doesn’t look away from the screen. “Waiting for your cock.”

The farmer’s eyebrows spring skyward, all thoughts of putting Haley on her lap and making her squirm dissipating like so much smoke. Haley, in the time the farmer has known her, has wanted to be fucked sweetly, and always on a bed. Haley enjoys, at maximum, one of the farmer’s fingers in her cunt. 

The farmer is not opposed to the change.

On screen, Penny looks directly into the camera, eyes half-lidded and mouth hanging open. She’s seconds away from smearing wetness all down the farmer’s thigh and it sends a pleasant throb through the farmer to see it again. On the couch, a dark spot grows on the front of Haley’s panties, lace and pale pink to match the bra.

“Penny puts on a pretty show,” the farmer says.

Haley sighs as Penny’s moans grow louder on screen. She rocks against the couch, but absently. Working herself slowly. It’s an impulse the farmer deeply approves of. Haley looks up as the farmer gets closer, eyes dark and half-lidded. The farmer reaches around and undoes Haley’s bra, pushing it down because they both enjoy seeing her tits hang where the farmer can take them into her hands. Haley likes the look of having her tits played with, but she’s not very sensitive. What this means, the farmer is realizing, is that Haley’s tits can take some punishment. 

“Did Penny like being spanked?”

A thought to keep on the back burner. Can’t do everything at once.

“Penny likes being put in her place,” the farmer says. 

“She likes it rough?”

“Penny likes to be overwhelmed. That doesn’t always mean rough.”

Haley nods. Penny’s moans build to a crescendo and Haley closes her eyes as the camera switches angles, an impersonal view of Penny’s cunt clenching around nothing as she squirts on the bed. The video ends with Penny still whimpering a little, collapsed back onto the bed and staring into the camera over her shoulder. That had been a good night. This might turn into another.

“I notice I didn’t fuck Penny with a strap in that video,” the farmer says.

“You should’ve,” is the instant reply. “Doesn’t she look good with your strap in her?”

The last time the farmer put her strap in Penny, she ridden the farmer until her knees ached and her tits were red and bitten from the farmer’s mouth, and then the farmer had turned Penny onto her belly and fucked her with a hand on the back of her shoulder blades, keeping her face-down and stroking deep and slow until she was gasping and mouthing into a pillow. 

“She looks like a mess with my strap in her,” the farmer confirms. Haley’s eyes go unfocused. The farmer leans in until her breath tickles the sensitive spot under Haley’s earlobe and says, “The real thing is so much hotter than what you’re picturing right now.”

“What’s it like,” Haley says breathlessly. 

The farmer slouches next to Haley on the couch, not touching her, but enjoying her bra caught messily between her thighs and her stomach. “She likes to be spanked,” she says. Haley’s breath catches audibly though she already knew that, already saw Penny presenting her reddened ass to the camera. “Best part is the sounds. Whimpering, crying. Tiniest little gasps you’ll ever hear. And she’s always dripping afterwards. Just likes being put in her place.”

“She’s so wet,” Haley whispers. She’s still not touching herself, the farmer notes. The wet spot on her panties is spreading, as Haley works herself against whatever friction the taut stretch of the fabric can provide. “Would you put me in my place?”

“I’d spank you too,” the farmer confirms, watching Haley for permission.

It comes in the form of Haley slowly rocking herself upright, arching her back and stretching out her legs. She gets on her hands and knees facing away from the farmer, then goes down to her elbows. Presenting her ass, like Penny on screen. “Like this?”

“I had her in my lap when I spanked her.” Which is true, and a better way to ease Haley into it. The farmer can feel all kinds of plans coalescing in the back of her head now that Haley’s interested.

Haley crawls into the farmer’s lap, keeping low, making sure her tits brush over the farmer’s jeans before she settles into place. Her panties are lace and sticky when the farmer peels them off to expose her round behind. This isn’t a view of Haley that the farmer has had before and the farmer runs a palm over an asscheek, satisfied with the knowledge that this is only the first time. Haley’s skin erupts in goosebumps under her hand as she waits for the blow.

Her ass blooms red at the first smack, gentle by the farmer’s standards. Haley lets out a choked cry, gasping for breath already. The farmer rubs soothingly at the skin under her palm, silky soft and holding the shape of her hand print for just a second.   
  
The farmer thinks Haley can take maybe four, this first breathless time, so she savors the next smack, running a possessive hand over the backs of Haley’s thighs, tickling the crooks of her knees where Haley’s panties are still caught and back up again, Haley bucking in her lap. The farmer lays a heavy arm over Haley’s back to keep her still, and Haley settles immediately, straining with the desire to be good for the farmer .

When the next hit comes, Haley lets out a gut-punched noise, whimpering long after the sharp slap has faded away. The farmer waits for her to settle, drawing patterns high on the inside of Haley’s thighs until Haley gets impatient and pushes her ass higher in the air. The farmer’s palm stings with the force of the next hit, landing on the delicate curve of Haley’s ass where it meets her thigh. Haley drops to the farmer’s lap, limp and trembling. Her hands clutch uselessly at the couch cushions, trying to get a grip on something, anything to bear the burst of sensation playing out on her delicate skin.

“I decide when and what you take,” the farmer murmurs. Maybe one more, then, if she’s so eager. 

Haley nods frantically into the couch, whimpering. The farmer slips a hand between Haley’s legs and finds her dripping, coating the farmer’s fingers in slick wet heat.

“Spread your legs,” the farmer says, and Haley obeys, hitting her knee on the back of the couch and then again as she tries to open still wider for the farmer. “Good,” the farmer soothes, “good job. You took that so well, my pretty girl.”  
  
“Pretty girl,” Haley mumbles, dazed with the pleasure of being under the farmer’s control. Her ass is mottled red and tender. The farmer won’t touch it just yet, but it’s tempting, trembling with Haley’s labored breathing. 

She slips a thumb into Haley’s silken heat and Haley moans, curling around it as best as she can, face-down on the couch, still held in place by the farmer’s arm heavy across her back. This angle lets the farmer play with Haley’s clit, rubbing teasingly around it until Haley’s hips are moving to meet the farmer, muffling quiet pleas as the farmer builds the pressure.

The farmer brings her free hand down with a crack on Haley’s tender red cheeks and Haley cries out, clenching tight around the farmer’s thumb, babbling as she comes, mouthing desperately at her own knuckles. The farmer gentles her pace, then stops, pulling her thumb out and wiping it clean on the back of Haley’s thighs.

“So good,” she promises Haley, running a hand over Haley’s back, firm and soothing. “Perfect.”

Haley cranes her head to look at the farmer, her face flushed red. “Is – this is what Penny felt?”

The farmer moves Haley’s legs aside and stands up. “You want to know how Penny felt?”  
  
“Yes. Please.” 

The farmer makes her way to stand beside the armrest, looking down at Haley. Haley looks back, curious, and then the farmer gets her hands on Haley’s ankles and hauls her across the couch, letting her squeal loudly as her soft tits drag over the rough polyester of the couch, until Haley’s ass is propped up on the armrest and her legs hang over the side. The farmer keeps her legs extended for a second, enjoying the slow drip of Haley’s cunt under the tender red ass that hadn’t been spanked before. 

Haley squirms as the farmer drops her ankles and presses in between her legs, hands heavy on her hips. “I made Penny ride my thigh. Do you think you can do that, baby?”

“Can,” Haley pleads, her breath coming faster already as she tries to push back for any kind of pressure. This’ll be fast, the farmer thinks. Haley’s still worked up from held down and spanked and then the farmer’s thumb. The farmer tightens her grip and Haley mewls, going pliable in the farmer’s hands. She pulls Haley’s cunt to her thigh and feels the heat and wet soak through immediately, rubbing her down her thigh before bringing Haley’s wet cunt right back up, a streak of slick dampening the front of her jeans. Haley’s hips circle desperately trying to get as much friction as possible, heedless of the rough denim.

“Go ahead make a mess of my jeans.”

Given permission, Haley drops her head and works her hips harder, jutting back into the farmer as the farmer tightens her grip on Haley’s hips. She moans long and low when she comes, dropping facedown onto the couch. The sound of her panting breaths fill the living room.

The farmer bends over her, ghosting the backs of her hands down Haley’s back and sides, keeping her weight off of Haley’s still smarting ass until at last Haley whimpers and works herself up onto her elbows, giving the farmer access to her tits, probably just a little tender from being dragged over the sofa, and then pressed into it as Haley rode the farmer’s thigh. Haley sighs as the farmer plucks at her nipples, pinching and squeezing her tits as harshly as she pleases. Her whole body moves as the farmer plays with her and the farmer smiles into the marks she’s leaving on Haley’s shoulders. A little rough treatment to set the nerves humming. 

Haley jerks under her and bumps into the farmer’s belly – she’s rolling her hips and hissing every time her tender ass brushes the farmer but doesn’t seem able to stop herself, a cycle of eager hips and pained little moans. The farmer soothes her with a kiss and pulls back. Haley whines, turning herself over to follow and whimpering again when her ass makes contact with the armrest. The farmer tugs at her hips again until Haley’s ass hangs over the armrest, not touching it, almost fully in the farmer’s mouth. 

She twitches at the rush of the farmer’s breath over her sensitive cunt, soaked and swollen. She can take more now, the farmer is sure, and velvet heat eagerly welcomes one finger, then another. Haley cries out when the farmer begins to move inside her, licking around her clit. Haley comes crying out and clenching hard around the farmer’s fingers, begging, unintelligible to the farmer through the thick hot press of Haley’s thighs around her head.  
  
She whines when the farmer takes out her fingers, slick-soaked and slipping up Haley’s belly, between the valley of her breasts and up her neck. The whine turns into a moan and Haley’s eyes slip shut in ecstasy as the farmer fucks slowly into her mouth. Her breathing slows even as she sucks on the farmer’s fingers, Haley’s hand a warm weight on the farmer’s forearm, getting heavier as she falls closer into sleep, still suckling weakly at the farmer’s fingers. 

It makes a very pretty picture; Haley’s eyelashes dusting her cheeks as the farmer’s fingers fill her mouth. Maybe Penny would like to see it too.


End file.
